Perishing Library

One day, soon someday,

The phantom pain of the amputee,

Will slip from memories grip.

Dreams with voices would not longer cut adrift,

No more it will bewail the loss.

But except every once in a long time,

When a stranger leans in as lovingly,

It would flood again,

Gasping for the next breath,

Taking to vague restlessness,

But still in relief,

To have saved the book of memory,

From that perishing library.






Copyright: Word Hunter

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My Treasure Box

On that disused and forgotten road,

You will find my treasure box.

Containing the love I owned,

And thoughts of my heart’s desire.

My innocent alacrity and vehement ways.

Oh those times, all has gone away.

Locked up somewhere on those roads.

To go there again and unbox what was lost.

That’s a hope I hold.






Copyright: Word Hunter

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I Stole Time

I stole time,

Slowly quietly tiptoed,

I grabbed it forever,

No more time will pass by.

Witnesses to my crime,

Are the shadows,

And the echoes,

Of the love we made.

I won’t let it go,

And if you want to know,

Time is kept caged,

Safe inside my heart.

And if you go searching,

You will never find,

Where I have hidden the keys.

Time is now ineluctable.

Time will never escape us again.

Copyright: Word Hunter

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